


All He Could Give

by keenquing



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-06
Updated: 2011-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keenquing/pseuds/keenquing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Wedding nights. I. Thought you might want one, that's all.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	All He Could Give

**Author's Note:**

> Gigantic spoilers for The Wedding of River Song; as well as lesser spoilers for the rest of Series 6. Originally written for eleventy_kink

The trial is just a formality, because River doesn't even bother to claim innocence. There's no point, really. She's doing all this to convince the Silence that he's dead, to protect him. And she's not scared of prison. Maybe a little sad at the idea of the sacrifices she's making and what people believe about her now—that she killed the only man she's ever loved—but it's worth it in the end because he's _alive_.

Anyway, it's barely a week before it's decided that she's to spend the rest of her days in the Stormcage. She's only been locked in her cell an hour when writing comes across the little bit of psychic paper she wedged in the space between her desk and the wall to keep handy. She's flipping through her diary, so she notices it quickly and switfly and carefully pulls it out, heart already hammering before she's even read a word and picking up speed when she actually sees the message.

 **20:00. Wear your best. -The Doctor.**

Carefully placing the paper back between the wall and desk, River looks at her watch. 18:30. Damn that man, she has _just_ barely enough time to get herself made up and knock out the guards.

 

 _Of course_ this one time he's early. She's still taking care of removing the hallucinogenic lipstick and putting on new stuff, as well as doing her hair, when she hears the TARDIS' engines. River bites off a swear, finishes tying her hair back, presses her lips together to get the colour even, and turns around to find the TARDIS parked just inches away from one of the hallucinating guards. She wants to be mad at him for rushing her like this, and she is ready to lash out at him, but then the door opens and he walks out wearing his tux of all things, complete with scarf and that ridiculous hat and it throws her so completely that all she can do is gasp and try to keep her eyes from overflowing.

He twirls 'round on his heel and smiles at her, a real smile, not the uneasy ones he'd worn the last few times they'd met. “Hello, River.”

“I—ah, door's already unlocked, I just have to—um,” oh, damn this man, throwing her all out of sorts like this. “Oh, blast it,” she throws down the bag she'd been rummaging through and turns, throwing the door aside and putting on her sweetest smile. “Hello, sweetie.”

“I'd ask how prison's been treating you, but,” the Doctor glances around his feet at the hallucinating and unconcious guards. “I think a better question is how you're treating prison. Was all this really necessary?”  
“On such short notice, I believe it was. Now, what are you doing here dressed up like that?”

“Wh-oh, this?” the Doctor looks at himself, feigning surprise. At least River _hopes_ he's feigning it and it really wasn't the first thing he grabbed from the wardrobe. “We—l-ll, I just thought that if I was coming to get you for our—ahhhh—, I just figured I should—”

“Our _what_?” River asks, leaning against the wall, eyebrow raised and one arm folded under her breasts. “Don't tell me a cat's got your tongue, sweetie. Only one doing that should be me.”

If possible, the Doctor looks even more flustered at that. He scratches the side of his nose furiously for a few moments and coughs. “Well, it's just that, well we did get married after all, and while there were extenuating circumstances—circumstances that were _all your fault_ , you know—”

“Not going to deny it, sweetie, and never have.”

"—right. Well, even then, there are, certain, ah, traditions and rites that go along with these things. Like dancing! I'm rather sorry we missed out on the dancing. And food, lots of food, sorry about that too. And....” he stops, hand working nervously at this collar.

River shakes her head and pushes away from the wall, stepping over to him and taking his hand in her own. “And what, sweetie?”

The Doctor swallows, hard, but he doesn't pull his hand away. Matter of fact, he actually turns it a bit so the insides of their fingers are together and intwines them a bit. “Wedding nights. I. Thought you might want one, that's all.”

River closes her eyes for a moment, and hopes he doesn't notice the few tears that escape or hear the 'thank you' to the gods or the TARDIS or whatever else had a hand in this. Then she swallows herself and lifts her head back up, putting on her best coy smile. “You really think you'd get any argument from me?” she laughs and lifts her free hand to straighten his bow tie. “And you, my love? What do you want?”

The Doctor freezes for a moment, but when River looks at his face he doesn't seem scared or nervous. More...confused. Surprised. Like he can't believe anyone would ask what he wants. He probably can't believe it. Foolish man. She'd have to cure him of that kind of thinking.

“I—ah,” his brow furrows for a moment and his mouth opens, tongue sticking out just a bit to touch his upper lip. God he is not making this easy. “I think,” he says, finally, “that I would very much like to spend the night with you, River, if that's quite all right.”

That was all she needed. “Oh, shut up,” she says, smiling, as she moves her hands away from his collar to put them on the back of his neck to pull him in for a long, much needed kiss.

It's different from last time. Last time, what with all of time restarting around them and knowing she was going to lose him soon and everything else, she'd let herself be pulled along by him. And he hadn't been bad at all, to be completely fair. This time, though, River takes the lead. She sinks one hand into his hair while the other presses to the side of his face, both pulling him as close to her body as is physically possible. He seems taken aback, at first, but then his tongue is touching hers and his hand is on the small of her back and—

And then, all too soon, he pulls away.

“TARDIS,” he says, breathlessly. “Bedroom.”

River grins. “I like the way you think,” she bites his lower lip, which seems to puzzle him just a bit, but then he just turns around to open the TARDIS' door.

“How long until those guards come to?” he asks, halfway through the console room. When River, momentarily puzzled by the question, is silent, he shakes his head. “Right, never mind, better play it safe, give us a mo'.” He lets go her hand and rushes to the console. It's strange, her Doctor talking about playing it safe, but he is trying to stay hidden. That makes her sad, for just a moment, but then the room goes dark and the spotlights come on and she wonders if she should tell him that she knows exactly how to cloak the TARDIS while keeping the proper lights. Then he takes her hand again and starts pulling her down a corridor and she can't think about anything except how badly she wants to remove more than just that blasted hat.

 

Thankfully, the TARDIS is kind and the first door the Doctor opens reveals a large bed with plain white sheets and a more-than-adequate supply of pillows. There's a couple candles on the nightstands, and a bottle of wine and glasses on a small table as well. That'll be nice, later. Right now all River wants is him. So, before he can even think of pouring a glass to delay even more than he already has just by virtue of his hopeless awkwardness, River pulls on his hand to turn him 'round to face her.

“You,” she starts, letting go so she can put both hands under the sleeves of his suit jacket, “are wearing far too many clothes.”

“And you aren't wearing very much at all. Not that I mind!” he adds, hastily. “Never seen this one. Or maybe I have. Have I?” he says, fingering the purple brocade-like fabric. River rolls her eyes, tosses his jacket to the floor, then grabs his hands and puts them on her back.

“If you're going to be fumbling about, at least try to make yourself useful and unzip me,” she says, before reaching for his bowtie.

“Ah, right, zippers. Not much good with zippers. Have been, but not this time.”

River sighs heavily, shaking her head. “Fine, do yourself then, otherwise at this rate the guards'll all be dead by the time we get out.”

“Oi! Rude!” But he does as he's told and begins working on his buttons. He stops, though, after River swiftly pulls her zipper down and the sleeveless dress falls to her feet, revealing nothing but River herself.

“...oh.”

River raises an eyebrow, hands on her hips. “'Oh'? And what's that supposed to mean?”

“N-nothing. I—ahhh....” he trails off and starts work on his shirt again, fingers quick but trembling so he's probably even slower than usual. River shakes her head and, stepping out of her shoes, saunters over to the bed to wait for him. It is nice, she thinks, just watching him like this. As awkward and frustratingly slow as he is, he's also absolutely devastating. It's not that she hasn't looked at other men (or done far more)—that are far too many of them, and not just the ones she can take advantage of—but she's never looked at any of them like she does him. She wonders, for a moment, what her life would be like if she'd had a chance to fall in love with anyone but him. But she's quite certain she'd never take that chance even if she had it, and anyway she didn't have it and that's why he's standing here in front of her, half naked and staring at his awkwardly-shifting feet.

She laughs quietly and sits up, crooking a finger at him. “Come here, sweetie.”

He does, standing between her legs, and when he realises just where he is his cheeks colour and River grins. “Don't tell me you've never done this before?”

“No!” he exclaims, then, hurriedly, “and by no I mean I have, not that I haven't, I mean, I—“ he splutters for a moment more before he sighs. “It's just...it's been a very long time, that's all.”

“Hmmm,” she grabs the waistline of his trousers, so gravity combines with his innate lack of balance to cause him to fall towards her. “Well, I'm sure we'll figure it out together.”

“Right,” he says, shakily. “Right. I...right.” Then, before she tells him to shut up again, and without even the slightest bit of urging from a hand on the back of his neck or her body pressing up against him, he kisses her. It starts out quite weak, and he slips a little and they bump noses, but given that it's the first time they've done this in a horizontal position River's willing to let it go. He figures it out soon enough, though, and soon he's shifted her further up the bed and has a hand under her neck and is even biting her a little in just the right ways.

He's got a leg between hers now, for balance, and River finds herself arching against it. He takes that hint, thank goodness because she's not sure she could say her own name at the moment, and reaches a hand down to undo his trousers. It's more than a bit awkward getting them off, after, a moments struggling he finally sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed so he can remove them and his undergarments without injury. He's surprisingly quick about it, though, and then he's back over her and he's got his mouth on hers and his thumbs start grazing her nipples. She'll admit, too, that she's more than a bit pleased with herself when she feels him hard against her thigh, but she doesn't say it. Mostly because words are still a little hard to come by, but better her wordless than him babbling incessantly.

They do need to breathe, though, and when he pulls away to do so he shoves his hair behind his ear and swallows. “Right, okay. This is good, right? Can't always tell with the noises girls make.”

River rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “If it wasn't, I'd have told you to shove off so I could do it myself by now.”

“Right. Good.” He sat up on his knees, scratching his face and blinking. When he doesn't move from this position for several moments, River sighs and sits up as well.

“For the love of—you are positively hopeless, you know that?” Instead of letting him answer, though, she just pushes him down so his head is nearly-but-not-quite hanging off the bed and straddles him.

“Think you can figure it out from here, sweetie?” she says, taking his hand to pull him up a bit.

“I—think I have an idea, yes,” he says, shakily.

“Good.” Just to be sure, though, she takes his hand and slips it between their bodies, pressing his fingers against her clit as she starts thrusting against him.

The fact it's been a long time for him does show, but he's a quick study. It's difficult to maintain the semi-vertical position for long with his balance, though, so he is soon hanging half off the bed. He doesn't seem to notice, though. He doesn't seem to be noticing much of anything but her, though, if his rapid breathing and flushed face are any indication. And River's not much better, barely able to keep her fingers wrapped around his wrist to keep his in place. Not that she needs it as much as she gets closer, she thinks briefly, but—

And then she's not thinking much of anything as she comes. She's had better, strictly speaking, but the fact that it's with him, with his hands on her hips and his voice quietly saying her name already makes it more memorable than any other. She feels him follow her not much later, fingers tightening and body arching against her. She's terrified, for a moment, that he'll cause them to tumble straight off the bed.

They maintain their positions, though, and quite soon his body slackens and he lets out a loud sigh.

“Well—I'm not certain that was like I remember, because I don't really, but—”

River shakes her head as she removes herself, in a slightly wobbly fashion, from his body to stretch out beside him. “Do you ever stop talking?” she asks, putting a hand under his neck to shift him all the way back onto the bed before she puts her head on his shoulder.

“Of course! I wasn't talking for a whole five minutes there!”

“Mmm. That's not quite true, sweetie.”

“Oh? Ohhh...you're right. Well, since I wasn't thinking about it, it doesn't count.”

River thinks of a snide remark, but holds it back. “Whatever you say, my love.”

Her eyes feel a bit heavy, and she realises that it must be rather late by now. Before she goes under completely, though, she feels his lips brush her forehead.

 

By the time she wakes up, the Doctor says there's only time for a quick toast before she really must get back to her cell.

“You've a time machine!” she exclaims, as she opens the bottle.

“Well, yes, but—well, I—ahh—”

River shakes her head and fills his glass. “It's fine, there'll be other days. I suspect you need more time to recover, at any rate,” she says with a smile.

“Ah—hh, yes....” he pretends to smell the wine in an attempt to hide his blush. River smiles as she sets down the bottle.

“Right, then, what should we toast to? Extremely gullible and easily drugged guards?”

The Doctor points an only-half menacing finger at her, as if to say that she really should stop that but he knows she won't so he won't even bother. “I don't know...ah, well, considering what tonight is...” he lifts his glass, and his other hand takes hers. “Us, I suppose.”

River doesn't even bother to blink away her tears this time as she grips his hand and raises her own glass. “To us.”


End file.
